


They try to make me go to rehab (and I say no, no, no)

by UlsPi



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Coping, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Forests, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia has PTSD, M/M, Recovery, Rimming, Trees are the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Geralt is in rehab, and there's that young man coming every week to play the guitar. Geralt hates him so much.---"I love how you just sit in the corner and… lose your queen to yourself. Your gambits are shit. You seem to be determined to lose to yourself."And he put that arse right next to Geralt."You must play better than this. A checkmate in three moves or less."Jaskier smiled."I'm here to play alone.""Playing chess alone is the finest form of masturbation," Jaskier retorted and moved a bishop. Endangering Geralt's knight. Bugger."What did they tell you? You can't trick me."Jaskier avoided Geralt's bait and went further for Geralt's knight. His last one."Fuck off! I don't want company. Don't want pity either.""Interesting… you're the only one who never asked for a single song from me." Jaskier took Geralt's knight. With a flourish. With a flick of his wrist. "Come on! You don't want a man with… your knight in his hands waiting." He blushed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 77
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that Geralt was ashamed of breaking down. Neither was he afraid of admitting a defeat. However, that particular defeat shouldn't have happened in the first place - he had been trained to endure what he went through, and he had always been the best. That was why he had been sent where no one would have been, that was why he had demanded more from himself. 

And after all, he had been discharged with honours. 

He had still been discharged, he had been deemed unnecessary. Or too dangerous. 

Geralt learned that some people with PTSD suffered from memory loss. He wished he had been one of those, he wished he had been able to edit his memory to his taste… He used to dream of becoming an editor. He did love reading, but it had to be precise, short and to the point - Chekhov, Hemingway, Akutagava, Maugham… None of that flowery style of Proust and Joyce. None of the baroque complexity of Cervantes. 

That dream couldn't come true, though, because he had been trained and prepared for something else, and that something had appeared all consuming… They had brainwashed him so completely he could hardly remember anything else, apart from his missions and his family. 

Yet, when he came back, he grew suspicious. Maybe they were afraid of him too. Maybe they had believed that damned journalist who called Geralt  _ the butcher of Blaviken _ . He had been pondering over the Blaviken operation for years, despite the fact that the article had been thoroughly disproved by someone called J. A. Pankratz - the fucking lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, fuck, fuck, fuck. Somehow Geralt hated that man even more than the one who had ruined him. It was easier to believe Mr Stregobor, when Yennefer looked at Geralt like that, when Ciri seemed to be far too careful around him. 

Both of them tried to convince Geralt that they hadn't believed that article even for a moment, and that they cared about him, and… Geralt packed his things and left, like a sulking teenager. He'd been sent to a military school as soon as it could be done, and his mother had never showed up after that, so in a way, he reasoned, he had deserved the right to do something belonging to an entirely different stage of one's development. 

He hadn't intended to abandon Ciri. His marriage to Yennefer hadn't been a happy one for a while, so at least  _ that  _ turned out well. He felt an ugly glow of self-righteousness when Yennefer said she wanted a divorce, which of course he regretted the moment he realised that he had given her every reason to make such a step - and that he had forced that step on her.

But Ciri, their little girl, she was above it all, or so Geralt had thought. 

It started small, a drink here and there, he couldn't afford much luxury with the army pension, but he indulged, so to speak. Speaking so was definitely flowery. He got drunk with increasing frequency, but never in front of Ciri - for a while, at least. 

His best friend Eskel tried to talk him out of his new  _ habit _ \- too flowery again. It was a fucking addiction, he was an addict, an alcoholic, the worst man in the world. 

At first he just refused to see Ciri.

Then he got angry at Yennefer for not letting him see her. 

Then he was beaten up by someone… He couldn't remember. Eskel came to his rescue. He and Yennefer demanded he should go to rehab.

Geralt refused. He could deal with it, he could. 

He couldn't. 

The telltale signs were there, he knew it even then: he became secretive and paranoid, he couldn't stand having no alcohol at home, he didn't shave and didn't shower, didn't do his laundry, but  _ he was fine.  _ Why would he admit to being a mess, when it was exactly what was expected from him? No, he was a war hero, an honourable man. 

"You do understand that you can be all of those and an addict, don't you?" Eskel asked carefully. 

Geralt grunted. 

"My choice of words was poor," Eskel admitted. "But you've always been your own man, Geralt, and I can see you're not anymore. Let me… let's find a way to…"

"I don't need help!"

"I do, though," Eskel replied softly. "Want my best friend back."

"Your best friend never failed you! We fought together, we…" Geralt snarled and then snored. 

Eskel refused to tell Yennefer anything. 

A few days later, Geralt showed up at Yennefer's door, crying. He had tried to rob his neighbor and stopped himself at the very last moment. 

Yennefer checked him into a rehab the following day. Both agreed to tell Ciri as much as a twelve-year-old could understand. Geralt was afraid that Yennefer would never let him see their daughter again, so he didn't ask for any meetings. Yennefer didn't insist on any, mostly because she didn't know what to do and what to say. 

\---

The rehab was annoying. There were people, first of all, both fellow residents and staff. Geralt felt humiliated just listening to them. He took to talking to Chekhov, since technically Chekhov was a doctor and he used the language Geralt could get behind. 

Eskel visited and Yennefer called. Geralt dreaded both the visits and the calls. 

But the worst of all was a young man, barely in his thirties, who came to the rehab once a week and played the guitar. He just fucking sat in the common room and played his guitar. Most people loved asking him to play this or that. He always told his name was Jaskier, and he played the best rendition of  _ While My Guitar Gently Weeps _ . 

He had brown hair and very blue eyes, he looked kind and funny. Geralt would have asked him for a drink in another life, where he was a divorced editor of laconic authors. 

That life had been lost, though.

And Jaskier was still there, young, bright, sinewy, with long fingers, clever, clever fingers. And blue eyes. 

How dare he be so beautiful? How dare he think that his music could help anyone? What did the people running the place think?

And sometimes he sang - beautifully. He had that strong, compelling voice. 

He used flowery language. 

Geralt wanted to edit him into his bed. 

Geralt wanted Jaskier to edit him into Jaskier's bed. 

It was more humiliating than anything else. 

Geralt had never mentioned it to his therapist - until he couldn't help it, and then the therapist's face brightened. 

Geralt missed two appointments after that. 

\---

Jaskier couldn't take a hint, apparently, because one day he strode over to Geralt's corner, where Geralt was losing a game of chess to himself. 

He strode. 

He sauntered. 

He swayed. 

He was the most magical terroir the art of winemaking had ever witnessed, and he had been happening every year for each year of his life. 

His head tilted a bit, his fringe fell over his eyes - to accentuate the blue of his eyes just out of spite. 

"I love how you just sit in the corner and… lose your queen to yourself. Your gambits are shit. You seem to be determined to lose to yourself."

And he put that arse right next to Geralt. 

"You must play better than this. A checkmate in three moves or less."

Jaskier smiled. 

"I'm here to play alone."

"Playing chess alone is the finest form of masturbation," Jaskier retorted and moved a bishop. Endangering Geralt's knight. Bugger. 

"What did they tell you? You can't trick me."

Jaskier avoided Geralt's bait and went further for Geralt's knight. His last one. 

"Fuck off! I don't want company. Don't want pity either."

"Interesting… you're the only one who never asked for a single song from me." Jaskier took Geralt's knight. With a flourish. With a flick of his wrist. "Come on! You don't want a man with… your knight in his hands waiting." He blushed. 

Geralt didn't know what to do, what to feel. He couldn't be a regular person, could he? Couldn't just flirt back, especially if Jaskier had been talked into it by the staff. 

"You must have a request for me. Anything."

Geralt looked him over. "Something based on Chekhov," he demanded. 

Jaskier nodded and fetched his guitar. "Something from  _ The Seagull _ perhaps?" Jaskier asked. 

"You're a bastard. They prepared you for me. What did they tell you? That major Rivia's weak spot is Chekhov?" Geralt sneered. 

Suddenly Jaskier paled. 

"You… you're major Rivia?"

Before Geralt could sneer again, Jaskier was gone. 

\---

He didn't return the following week. 

And the week after that. 

And the following month.

When he did return, he said he'd play just one song and played  _ Paint It Black _ . He couldn't refuse a request for  _ Because  _ and another for  _ You're My Best Friend _ , but after that he disappeared again. 

Geralt couldn't have been blamed for it, objectively. 

It was terrible anyway. He was a disgrace. He was disgusting. Jaskier had to be disgusted with him. Jaskier had to be mocking him. 

Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier. 

When the sun rose - Jaskier. 

When it set - Jaskier.

When it moved slowly across the sky - Jaskier. 

Geralt lashed out at his therapist. He told them he couldn't be manipulated into falling in love, couldn't be forced into liking someone. 

It was hell. 

\---

Jaskier returned after about six weeks - Geralt couldn't tell. He hadn't been counting. 

The young man didn't play, he didn't even bring his guitar. 

"Look… I… My name, my real name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. I…"

"You…" Geralt managed. "It was you. You… you tried to turn that nightmare into a dream!" He growled, he roared, he tried to force it down his throat. 

"Yes. Listen to me… Please, just listen." Jaskier raised his hands. 

"Speak!" Geralt demanded. 

"I… I'm a trust fund kid. I'm rich. My parents did me a favour and died early. I ran away, became a war journalist. I was stupid, I wanted to get in trouble… and I did get in trouble. I did. Heard about you. I got a Pulitzer for that investigation, can you imagine? They hated me, because I brought that old arsehole Stregobor down. I got back home..."

"Shouldn't have left it."

"Don't grunt at me, Geralt. I wanted to investigate, and I did… Geralt, I swear…"

"Fuck off. You made… they were right, they were. I'm a butcher."

"No, you're not. You saved children, you saved people, and some old arrogant arse claimed to have witnessed something else. I…"

Jaskier left again.

Geralt didn't miss him, didn't fantasise about him. He made a point of saying so to his therapist. 

\---

Jaskier came back. It took him seventeen days. Geralt hadn't been counting. 

"I didn't know you, didn't see you. I was there for the witnesses, for the people you saved… as it turned out."

He sat next to Geralt and played everything he was asked to play, clever fingers, sharp mind. 

Geralt didn't ask any questions. 

"I got back home. I'm a forester now. I keep the forests that belong to my family, safe. That's all I do."

\---

Geralt wished he had met him differently, long before any big decisions. He wanted to have met Jaskier genuinely, truly. In a bar, maybe. Geralt wanted to have watched him open up like a flower to the first rays of sun. 

In some other life they could have been happy, could have met and got married, could have met and could have had a glorious affair. 

Geralt couldn't say why he was thinking all this.

Jaskier started to come twice a week, one day just to sit with Geralt and play chess. Sometimes he pretended to be really bad at it, which Geralt found both infuriating and endearing. 

The other day he came to play  _ and  _ play chess with Geralt. 

"When all this is over, what will you do?" Jaskier asked, twisting his way out of the trap Geralt had been building for him. Geralt cursed and hummed.

"I still think they sent you to me." 

"Who sent you to me?" Jaskier tilted his head, attentive and gentle. Even Yennefer hadn't been gentle with him, and Geralt preferred it that way - but not out of pleasure, it was just the way he had been raised, it was familiar. And here Jaskier was gentle. 

"The doctors. The coordinators. Supervisors. Whatever they are called. I'm here to get better, because I almost robbed my neighbour. When I'm out, I'm going somewhere far." 

"What about your family?"

"How do you know about my family?"

"You're wearing a wedding ring." Jaskier pointed at Geralt's left hand.

"And you're flirting with me." Geralt accused.

"I asked around. No one visits you. It can't be good. Besides, for all my flirting, you never respond to it. Checkmate." Jaskier sat back. 

"Fuck you."

"I was told you can be dangerous, but… You're not. And... Well… I guess we've become friends?" Attentive and tentative. 

"I'm not your friend. My true friends know that I don't deserve to be visited, they know I'm a failure, and they took a step back."

"You've got shitty friends, Geralt."

"Don't you fucking dare." Geralt growled, an attendant stirred.

"It's alright." Jaskier smiled at the attendant. "It's fine," he turned back to Geralt. "How about we get a way for a while? Just a few hours. I'm still an accredited journalist, so… I doubt anyone would want an exposé from me." He winked at Geralt, as if he hadn't been growled at just a moment earlier. "I can take you to my forest."

"There's a garden here," Geralt replied through his teeth.

"Park-shmark.  _ Forest,  _ Geralt. One of the very few in this part of the country. I have hares and deer and foxes, wolves even. There's an albino one, looks like you."

"Wolves?" Geralt asked in disbelief.

"Yes, sir." 

"And you… saw them?"

"Sure. I camp there all the time, and I gave up the manor…" He suddenly blushed. "Well, this is the manor. Believe me, it was just as bad when people pretended to live here."

"Only goes to show they sent you to me. Or you're working on the publicity of the place. Earns you a lot, I bet." Gerald looked aside. 

"I gave it up, Geralt. It doesn't belong to me. I have a cabin in my forest. Come on." Jaskier stood up and grabbed his coat with a long red scarf sticking out of a sleeve. When he put it on, the ends reached the floor, but he only wrapped it around his neck twice.

"I didn't agree."

"But you should." Another tilt of head. "I can blabber endlessly about trees and forestry."

"You blabber endlessly about everything."

Geralt followed him all the same. 

Jaskier moved with awkward grace, or his grace was such that the most awkward situations seemed better with him in them. He was one of those people who'd knock a vase over and catch it immediately. 

\---

Of course Jaskier drove a customized cerulean blue Range Rover. Geralt stared at the car, balancing on the line between admiration and exasperation.

"I'll let you steal it," Jaskier offered apologetically. "I could always get a new one."

"Well, that would certainly lower the level of satisfaction." Geralt chuckled. 

"I just washed it this morning. Usually it's basically all shades of brown and grey." Jaskier climbed inside and started the car. "Do you want to drive?"

"I'd rather pretend you kidnapped me. I wouldn't want to be seen in such a car." Geralt climbed in too, nevertheless.

The drive wasn't short, to Geralt's surprise. 

"How much land do you own?" Geralt asked. 

"Too much," was Jaskier's reply. He drove well, though, steadily and confidently. The car hummed imperceptibly, happy to be handled by the young man. Who wouldn't? Geralt coughed to distract himself from  _ that  _ line of thought. 

"Why do you come to the centre?" He asked after a few minutes. 

"My, Geralt, you're talkative today." Jaskier smirked. He was cute, Geralt decided, so bright and lovely, warm and shining, a sun.

"I'm trying to be polite."

"That would deprive me of your brooding charm. I come because I need an audience. I come because… there are things in the world that are worth living and fighting for… Oh, that's cheesy. Look, when a person has a cold, no one defines them by that cold. When a person has cancer, no one reduces that person to cancer. Yet, when it comes to addictions, or any other mental health problems, suddenly a person is just their illness. An addict, a schizophrenic, a sociopath, an autistic person, an ADHD person… It should count of course, but it's not all of it. So I come and play, because music doesn't discriminate. There's an exquisite pleasure beyond any walls and treatments. The people who run it, they are good, they are well-meaning. Wouldn't have given them the building, had it not been so… but they tend to forget that it's play and pleasure that make us… who we are."

"Pretty speech. Maybe it will win you some other award."

"Or take you!" Jaskier appeared to be unfazed by Geralt's snide remark. "You're not just a major. Or an addict. You're a man, you're a husband, perhaps a father, a friend…"

"I  _ am  _ a father. She won't see me again, but I am her father." He gritted his teeth. He wanted to pull his long white hair out, wanted to scrap himself clean and anew, renewed, and…

"You're not a father, if you're not there, though. Trust me, mine never had been."

"What do you know?" Geralt snapped. 

"I know that you tried to rob your neighbour and snapped out of it. I know that you agreed to a rehab. You're a good man, and your daughter deserves to know you and learn from you." 

"You're not my therapist!" 

"I'm grateful for it. Wouldn't have been able to take you to my forest, had I been one." He winked at Geralt. 

"Don't wink when you drive."

"Don't act like my husband of ten years."

Both men stared away, blushing. 

\---

The  _ cabin  _ was… 

Geralt stepped back outside, then entered it again. 

"Fancy," he managed. 

A tiny house. A meticulously planned tiny house. With an elevated sitting area, with cleverly arranged storage under it - bookshelves, drawers and so forth. The bed above it. A simple ladder leading to it. Quite a big kitchen for such a small space. Knick-knacks everywhere, Jaskier's Pulitzer diploma… above the kitchen sink.

"Is there an Oscar in your bathroom?" Geralt asked.

"There's a UNESCO award there. I was a star for a year. Resigned immediately and pretended to do freelance. I wanted to be famous, of course, but not like that…" Jaskier closed the door. "Tea? Or coffee? Water?"

"Tea would be nice… I mean…" 

"Oh darling, once you let your softness out, you can't ever push it back, I'm afraid." Jaskier laughed and started making tea.

Geralt moved over to the bookshelves. Proust, more Proust, books about Proust, Jane Austen, Melville, Turgenev, Hemingway, Three Kingdoms, Kama Sutra…

"How very… eclectic." 

"Feel free to take anything." Jaskier's voice could barely be heard over the hum and hiss of his kettle. "If you pull that shelf and slide it aside, there's more."

Geralt did so. It was all Chekhov - and Goethe. 

"You can do the same with that shelf too." Jaskier reached up for the tea. His sweater and a white shirt underneath followed his movement, and for a moment Geralt could see soft skin covered in hair between Jaskier's jeans and shirt. 

Hemingway, Bradbury, Auden, mostly Auden. 

"Why would you hide your Auden?"

"I'm not hiding him. I'm keeping him away from prying eyes. Darjeeling? Earl Grey? Mint? Camomile?"

"Camomile, please…"

"Honey?"

"No. Leave the bag in."

"Strong stuff. I see." Jaskier carried over a black mug and handed it to Geralt. For himself, he made a cup of Earl Grey with too much sugar to be decent. 

"You're indecent."

"Of course I am! Have you seen the forest?!"

Geralt had seen the forest, autumn glory, so many colours. 

"Nature is camp, and so am I." He sipped his tea. "If you want to see the wolves, you need to be quiet." Jaskier pressed a finger to his own lips. 

"I can't stay that long."

"Indeed… I'm going to write that exposé anyway. I just want to show you the wolves, and instead I need to drive you back to the building I grew up in. Is your room ok?"

Jaskier chattered away, Geralt listened to him. Why wouldn't he? The man was young and pretty, had a tiny house in the forest he owned. 

He was so beautiful. 

He was so beautiful he wiped away every other moment when someone thought that a person before them was beautiful. 

They had their tea.

Jaskier then walked outside and started a fire. 

"No wild beast would come close to a fire," Geralt said from the house.

"Correct. But I bring them good food…"

Jaskier stepped into the house and took some meat out of the fridge. "I'm creepy that way, but I keep some food for the wolves… I want them to stay here, in my forests."

"Then it's not true."

"No, it's not. But they have been here for ages. My fuck-up of a family came here just a hundred or so years ago."

As it grew darker, Jaskier made sure he and Geralt stayed inside, the lights off, their conversations shushed. 

"That's why I never bring anyone here," Jaskier whispered, as they settled in the sitting area. "But I knew you'd know how to appreciate it…"

The forest was waking up the darker it got. Birds and beasts, chirps and wails.

"When will we drive back?" Geralt asked. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy it too much. 

Jaskier shrugged. 

"Got you out until tomorrow morning. Whenever you want."

What if I never want, Geralt thought. What if I want to stay by your sunshine?

"You have only one bed," Geralt remarked.

"The sofa is good too," Jaskier replied. "I sleep there a lot when I'm too lazy to climb up, which is always." He chuckled. 

"Still… it's not right."

"I don't do right, Geralt. I do good."

Jaskier threw the meat out and turned off the lights. As the evening went on, Geralt saw the wolves coming, and yes, one of them was an albino, bigger than the rest, graceful and beautiful. 

"That's you," Jaskier whispered. "Look at him. Who would dare to reduce him to his whiteness?"

"Is it some sort of shitty metaphor?"

"Oh no, Geralt, for this I'd take you to a stump who's doing their best to grow back into a tree. I have standards."

He drove Geralt back late at night.

"Well… Have dinner with me next time?"

He left before Geralt could answer. The air trembled with his presence - and with his absence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw: smut, referenced rape.

Jaskier returned the next day. Geralt tried to hide his joy behind some very bad chess moves. 

He came without his guitar, but someone asked him to play, so he sat by the old piano and played _Back to Black_. 

Geralt pretended to be deaf. 

"So… how are you doing today? I can steal you away again," Jaskier offered, taking a seat across from Geralt. He had taken his coat off, but that damn red scarf was around his neck.

"You're feeding my paranoia."

"Oh… Ground control to major Rivia, I'm just a loner like you, a forester, a bard." A flourish, an uninvited and unwelcome move on the chess board.

"Pain in the arse, that's what you are," Geralt grunted.

"Oh, I wish, darling."

Geralt's head snapped up.

"You don't even know if I'm into guys. Or still married."

"I'm shameless," Jaskier said. "Do you want to get away or what?"

"That's dishonest."

"I'm nothing but honest. How dare you?" Jaskier smiled at Geralt. 

"Don't smile like that."

"Thomas Mann. Thought you'd dislike him." Jaskier smirked.

"You know too much about me."

"Only one way to shut me up," Jaskier suggested. "Want to come with?"

\---

They drove back to Jaskier's forest, to his tiny house. 

Jaskier made tea and offered Geralt dinner. 

"What do you want from me?" Geralt demanded. "You pick up every alcoholic there?"

"Just you," Jaskier replied. "You're… beautiful."

"You're a hopeless flirt."

"On the contrary, I'm a very hopeful flirt." Jaskier winked. Fuck, the man could win a Pulitzer for winking. 

"And what you want is an alcoholic?"

Jaskier's gaze turned heavy. He walked over to Geralt and stood in front of him, all hips and messy hair and blue eyes. Those blue eyes would be the end of Geralt, his ultimate ruin and defeat.

"I want Geralt Rivia. Be he an alcoholic, a war hero, a flawed and perfect human being."

Geralt swallowed around nothing, his mouth was dry. "I'm… I…"

"You. You're you. I wish I had met you earlier. I wish I could make it all less awkward. I wish I could be there for you when you came back. I didn't even know what you look like."

Geralt quickly pulled Jaskier onto his lap. "How come you won a Pulitzer?"

"I really don't know. I think their standards are shit. Guess they wanted to get rid of Stregobor. And used me." Jaskier pouted. 

Geralt leaned in for a kiss - a slow and careful kiss. Damn the forest, damn the distant sounds of everything else, there were just Jaskier's gasps and moans. 

"And what shall I tell Ciri?" Geralt asked. "Should I… what am I to tell her?" 

Jaskier pulled back, puzzled. And also, damn his scarf that was there for grabbing and pulling. "There should be something to tell her about," Jaskier argued and went for another kiss, hungrier and wetter this time. 

"Not telling her that," Geralt chided. 

"You'll have to tell _me_ about that."

"You think you deserve to meet her?"

Suddenly, Jaskier was too far away. "No. No. I'm sorry, I'm stupid, I'm… I'm sorry."

He returned to the kitchen area, he tossed out some meat for the wolves. 

"Jaskier… even if I don't see her again, I…"

"You'll see her again. You're the best father ever." Jaskier was busy making dinner. He looked open and vulnerable, right there, in his own shell of a house. 

They ate their dinner. It was delicious - a roast beef, cranberry jam, French fries. The silence somehow didn't feel awkward. For the first time in his life Geralt allowed himself to be optimistic. 

"We'll figure it out… if you want," he offered. Jaskier raised his head, and Geralt saw how his eyes brightened again. He told Jaskier about Ciri. The young man listened, transfixed.

\---

"There's Jaskier," Geralt began his therapy session.

"Who?" The therapist asked. 

"He gave this building to you."

"Oh, Mr Pankratz. What about him?"

"I'm about to go on a long rant about him, and mind you, it will be very Marxist."

"Really? Wouldn't have expected that from you. Do go on."

Geralt did. 

\---

Jaskier returned with an oud instead of a guitar. "I want to play something else," he said. Everyone listened carefully as he played Afghan music. His fingers danced over the strings, so Geralt decided he could find his pride in the knowledge of those fingers in his hair. 

"You play so badly, I feel obliged to confront you." Jaskier sat across from Geralt.

"You play terribly too."

"No way! I was taught by an Afghan musician!" Jaskier ruined Geralt in three moves or less.

"Fuck! You can't be better at strategy than I am. I was trained…" Geralt rubbed his face.

"And I was trained too." Jaskier quickly rearranged the pieces to start a new game.

"I… I liked our kiss," Geralt blurted out.

"I liked it too, darling." Jaskier looked at Geralt with too much affection for someone who had stopped kissing Geralt.

"And you… freaked out."

"You drive me mad, perhaps." A flirtatious tilt of head.

"Take me away again." 

Jaskier practically swooned. 

"It was difficult for me to say," Geralt grunted. "I… I don't ask for things. But it's good… with you. In an annoying, unexpected way."

"Let me settle some things."

Jaskier got up. "See you by my _abomination_ of a car." And he walked away.

\---

Geralt and Eskel used to go ice fishing, and it was one day in February when Geralt heard the thumps of a trout trying to break the ice. There was something beautiful about it - and unnerving too. Geralt became very worried about the trout and didn't know what to do. Neither did Eskel. Both knew, however, that it was an omen of spring. 

The trout kept knocking on the ice, determined and not at all frantic, Geralt realised after a few minutes of careful listening to the thumping. 

It knocked and knocked and knocked - and suddenly the ice broke with a cracking sound. Eskel and Geralt had been standing on the bank, wary of the thinning ice, and they gasped when they heard the crack and caught a glimpse of the persistent creature, tossing the ice out of its way. 

"You're the trout," Geralt said out of the blue when Jaskier started the car. 

"I might be," Jaskier replied, somewhat puzzled, eyes firmly on the road. 

"It broke the ice with its body. Thumped and thumped, so stubborn, so persistent. Like you," Geralt explained. The words felt foreign in his mouth, everything turned slower and heavier. Maybe he was still in an alcoholic stupour, dreaming of that trout, making it into a human. 

"Thank you. Care to catch me?"

"I always let go what I catch."

"That's why they never visit you?"

"Eskel did, at first. I'm ashamed, and he should be too."

"My poor fisherman," Jaskier said tenderly. 

When they arrived, they stayed in the car, then Jaskier surged to Geralt and kissed him. 

It was uncomfortable and messy, Geralt wouldn't let go this time, however trembling his hands had turned. 

Geralt carried Jaskier inside and locked the door. 

"Could I undress you? And… take care of you?" Geralt asked. 

"Yes, darling. What an important and silly question."

They carefully folded their clothes before climbing up into the bed. Jaskier started kissing Geralt even before they landed on the soft and worn out sheets - mouth, nose, forehead… The forehead kiss melted Geralt alive, crashed through the ice. He felt warm and safe and cared for. He decided he'd tell Jaskier everything there was to tell, but later, after lavishing the younger man with as much warmth and care as he could find in himself. He finally remembered he had some.

So he flipped them over, nipped at Jaskier's earlobe, laced their fingers together.

"You're fluffy," he grunted, trying to kiss something that wasn't hair. 

"What a terrible trout I am," Jaskier gasped with a laugh. 

"There must be a place here that I can kiss. Do you even have nipples?"

Jaskier burst out laughing, but Geralt moved to kiss his sides and soft stomach, slid his hands down to hold Jaskier's hips. 

"You're beautiful," Jaskier whispered, playing with Geralt's long hair, running his fingers up and down Geralt's shoulders. 

Geralt had been well-built and he returned to working out during detox, but no one had ever called him beautiful, and now his chest swelled with pride. He sat back on his haunches and rolled his shoulders.

"A show off. Insufferable," Jaskier muttered. Still, he sat up, traced Geralt's shoulders with his lips, commented on Geralt definitely having nipples and carefully nipped one, then kissed another, then licked down Geralt's sternum. 

"I'm wet," Geralt remarked. 

"And I'm a fish, darling, I need water."

For a while they touched and caressed and kissed, their arousal slow and calm. 

"I'd like you to spend the night some time…" Jaskier whispered into Geralt's hip. 

"Maybe you'll get to know me better and wouldn't want to be alone in the room with me."

"I'm your fish, you caught me and let me go. So I returned…" Jaskier's mouth went from Geralt's hips to his inner thighs. 

"Come here. Please… I… I want to… I want you." 

Jaskier nodded and lay down next to Geralt, who immediately scooted down, lifted Jaskier's legs up and forward and licked at the young man's hole. Jaskier shuddered. 

"Darling… oh…" He barely breathed as Geralt swirled his tongue around his anus, probed gently inside, licked again, sucked with a growl. "Sweetheart… Geralt…"

Geralt touched Jaskier's cock, tugged just a little. He felt so good in Geralt's mouth, in his arms.

"I bet… I'm hairy there too."

"But I established that you have anus, so it's no problem," Geralt grunted in reply. Jaskier would have laughed, but Geralt sucked at his hole again and laughter turned into a moan. 

Geralt remained careful and slow, until Jaskier went pliant, so he could stick his tongue inside. 

"Oil… lube… something," Jaskier cried.

"Did I hurt you?" Geralt sat up, letting go of Jaskier's hips. 

"Oh, darling, no, you're so good… so good." Jaskier pulled Geralt down for a kiss. "Just… your fingers. Want your fingers. Your cock too."

Geralt's fingers, generously covered in coconut oil, joined his tongue. Jaskier came the moment Geralt touched his prostate. 

"Fuck… I'm so sorry… I… Geralt."

Geralt slurped Jaskier's spend off his belly. "Ew, you're disgusting."

"And you're a coconut, hairy and hard," Geralt kissed the corner of Jaskier's mouth. "And smell like one…"

"Kiss me."

"You said I'm disgusting…" Geralt's mouth was thoroughly stopped with Jaskier's tongue and lips. 

"In," Jaskier said. "Get in. Get inside me, darling."

There were doodles on Jaskier's condoms. 

"What is it?"

"This is me, living in the middle of a forest and nursing a crash on a handsome man." But Jaskier blushed all the same.

"So you doodled me on your condoms… Jask…" Jaskier kissed him again to stop any further teasing. 

Geralt slid in all the way, without even meaning to do so. "Sorry… you're slippery."

"And you've got some of my hair stuck on the condom. Could you… rearrange?"

Geralt huffed and _rearranged._

"That's much better." Jaskier let out a happy sigh. "Can I finger you?"

"Are your arms long enough?"

Jaskier oiled his fingers and reached to Geralt's arse, with some difficulty and slight _rearranging._

"Yes. Better to finger you with, darling. Should we start moving?"

"I'm good," Geralt grunted, gazing down at his lover.

"How come you look so… sweetly and have such a mischievous sparkle in your beautiful eyes?"

"My eyes are creepy. Who has yellow eyes?"

"You do, Geralt. Blue and yellow make green, and together we are spring." Jaskier canted his hips up, making Geralt gasp and push back with vengeance. 

They moved slowly, looking at each other, perhaps barely aware of anything other than the places where their bodies touched. Jaskier lightly caressed Geralt's prostate.

"I'm fucking a fish," Geralt remarked.

"This fish is all grown-up and consenting."

"I'm fish-sexual," Geralt giggled.

"And I'm fisherman-sexual. Starcrossed, that's what we are."

"Then no surprise I went into rehab…"

"If they are practicing conversion therapy, I'm going to kill them."

"Jask, you can't kill a fly."

They laughed and they moved, their rhythm steady and gentle. 

"Want to make it last," Geralt mumbled into Jaskier's neck.

Jaskier nodded, biting his lip.

"Too slow for you?"

"No, darling, beautiful for me. You're so beautiful, you're so good… Geralt…"

"Yes, fish?"

"Geralt, I…" Jaskier shut his eyes.

"Yes… want to make it good for you."

"Is it good for you?"

"The best for me." Geralt kissed him and didn't stop until they came together, their cries muffled into each other's mouths. 

\---

Once the condom was dealt with, Geralt tucked his head under Jaskier's chin. The younger man played with Geralt's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead every few moments. 

"I want to tell you everything."

"Whatever you want, I'm listening… I promised to drive you back… we should have more time."

For a moment both men tensed.

"But I'll come tomorrow morning. Early. Will take you away again. And when you're done, I'll be waiting for you."

"Hmmmm."

"Yes, me too."

"Mom dropped me off at the military school. I haven't seen her since. I liked languages and books… I thought it was wrong to want something so… unnecessary, so I… I learned and I trained. Met Eskel, we became the best of friends. Met Yennefer… We would always tear off each other's clothes, rarely talked, just… we had gravity between us. Ciri was born when I was away. In Blaviken… My subordinate, she… she went delusional suddenly. Held a little girl hostage… it was pure chaos. I… I didn't want to kill her, I swear, I didn't. Renfri, that was her name. Delusional isn't the right word, I guess. I don't know what happened, but suddenly she didn't care about anyone, she went so mad with the people we came for… They were monsters and she… she always wanted to bring justice into the world. I didn't know enough about her… She was a rape survivor, and I… I had no right to judge her. I'd let her burn the world down, because… back home, I had a little baby girl… And I'd burn the world for her and watch her burn the world, I'm afraid… But I didn't do it for Renfri. I should have."

"What a mess," Jaskier replied softly. 

"It is. It was. No, it is. That's why I got so angry with that article of yours. I didn't save a friend, I chose someone else, a nameless girl, a daughter of the man we came to extract. That man is still alive, albeit in prison. And Renfri isn't. Who am I to add more mess to the world?"

"You're human, darling. I agree… it… it was horrible. No one had ever mentioned to me that it was a woman. I think back in Blaviken they still think it was a demon… but you saved that girl. Saved all those people in the market."

"When I was discharged, long after Blaviken, mind you, I thought… I wasn't… I was unnecessary. I was a monster who was no longer essential to other monsters. When I'm drunk, when I _was_ drunk, I could forgive myself. This is me."

"Thank you for telling me…" Jaskier kissed Geralt's forehead once again. "I'll be silent as a fish about it."

"You _are_ very talkative for a fish."

"I'm a special fish. Geralt's fish." 

Geralt dozed off. Jaskier woke him up at six in the evening and drove him back. They kissed goodbye.

"I'll be back in the morning, darling," Jaskier promised.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut.

"He's waiting for me downstairs," Geralt said the following morning. He was almost smiling. 

"Jaskier?" The therapist asked with a knowing smirk. 

"Yes."

"So… no Marxist rant this time?"

"No. Mostly pornography."

"Oh, do make my day."

"You're a pervert."

"Don't tell Mr Pankratz. He'll destroy my reputation. He's been bending too many rules lately… I allowed it for the sake of your rants, Geralt."

"I don't think you had a choice. I can't imagine anyone doing something against his will. Disobedient fish… I'm going to tell you about a trout."

\---

Jaskier was on the phone and sitting on the bumper of his car when Geralt finally walked out of the building. 

He immediately jumped down and kissed Geralt soundly on the lips. Geralt could hear the woman in Jaskier's phone gasp in mock offense. "Are you snogging? Can't you hold it in your pants for a moment longer?"

"I can't," Jaskier said, cupping Geralt's cheek. "Triss, you're my employee. I pay you handsomely, you can deal with my gayness."

"Find me a girlfriend first," Triss replied and ended the call.

"Sorry about that, darling." Jaskier pocketed the phone, his eyes firmly on Geralt. "How are you?"

"Kiss me again."

"Needy. I see." Jaskier leaned in for a very chaste kiss. "I wanted to show you something. Come on, get in the car." He opened the door for Geralt and rushed to the other side.

"There's that farm," Jaskier started as they drove off. "I didn't know of its existence, because my attorney is a sneaky and sensitive soul. She's been rescuing all kinds of abused animals. In my name. On my land. Tell me, Geralt, my sweet fisherman, do you ride?"

"If you want to top from the bottom, just say so," Geralt grunted. "Fuck! What did I just do?"

"You innuendoed me! I'm proud of you!"

"I'm your little pet project then?"

Jaskier squeezed Geralt's knee. "No, darling. You're not. I stopped bedding everything that moves the moment I laid my eyes on you… Yes, you turned this libertine into a loyal wife." 

Geralt looked outside. 

"I'm sorry, Geralt… I'm sorry, darling. Do you want to go back?"

"Don't you dare," Geralt replied. 

"I swear, I never brought anyone home. Just you. I swear…"

"Shut up."

"I won't. Do you ride?"

"I do."

"Well, I obviously don't, but I wanted to see that farm that Triss had set up without my knowledge or permission, and I understand there's a horse just for you."

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. When they reached the farm and Jaskier stopped the car, Geralt went for a kiss - and was granted one, generously, with a moan and a sigh. 

"You opened up to me, and I didn't do the same for you," Jaskier said, breathing heavily.

Geralt went in for another kiss.

"I mean it, Geralt… I…" 

Another kiss.

"I fall in love easily, but I never make an effort. I'm making one for you."

Another kiss.

"Shut up, fish. Shut up. Don't spoil it. I hadn't been happy for a long time…"

Jaskier initiated the next kiss. 

"I want to make you happy, I do. Please, could you trust me?"

\---

The mare was just as brooding and grumpy as Geralt himself. Her name was Roach, and as of the moment, Jaskier was terribly jealous. Geralt was riding her and whispering sweet nothings into those attentive silky ears. 

"Ciri has riding lessons," Geralt explained. "Join me?" 

Jaskier took Geralt's hand and settled in front of him on Roach. "This is lovely."

"It is," Geralt kissed Jaskier's ear. "It very much is."

They rode for an hour or so, Jaskier resting his back on Geralt's chest. 

"I like being like that… I like being close to you," Jaskier whispered. They kissed. 

"Cheesy, so, so cheesy," Jaskier reproached, but he made no move to distance himself from Geralt. 

Afterwards they met a few dogs, two goats, one cow, about ten cats. 

"It's a good place. Yours is better," Geralt concluded by the end of it. Jaskier rolled his eyes and drove them back to his house. They had lunch, then Jaskier dragged Geralt into the shower.

It was small even for one person, so they were pressed to each other, kissing and kissing and kissing. Geralt's hands upon Jaskier's hands upon their bodies, hair and soap and wetness and intimacy. 

Geralt ended up sprawled on the sofa, with Jaskier between his legs, sucking him off. 

"You taste so good," Jaskier took a break, but kept stroking Gerald's cock. "And I had all this beauty inside me… oh fuck, darling, you're gorgeous." He went back to sucking, tender and tender and tender and tender. 

Geralt came down his throat. "You're gross now too."

"Love it, darling," Jaskier replied, going down, until his tongue was teasing at Geralt's anus. "Quick learner too."

Geralt caressed his hair. "I want to fuck you and come inside you and eat you out…"

"We'll do it… one day we will. When you stay the night." Jaskier stroked Geralt's cock. "I promise…"

He returned to worshiping Geralt's arse. Geralt came all over his hair, then they were kissing again in the shower. Geralt was stroking them both, Jaskier was whispering into his ear, dirty and unashamed.

"I want you on your hands and knees… eating you out, eating you out, want my tongue inside you."

They ended up on the kitchen floor, naked, Geralt balls deep inside Jaskier. The coconut oil in the kitchen was almost gone. 

"We need to… lure the wolves in," Jaskier reminded Geralt suddenly.

"I'm right here… you lured me in."

They went slow again, so slowly, so carefully, and when they were done, Geralt kissed the burns on Jaskier's back. 

"My floor is really a wonder," Jaskier said, his voice strained with moans and cries and Geralt leaning heavily on his back. 

"You're a wonder," Geralt argued. A kiss, a lick, a bite. He scooted down to eat Jaskier out. He couldn't have enough of him, of his taste, of his pliant consent, of his gentle moves. Jaskier moved to meet Geralt's mouth and moaned into the floorboards. 

Geralt licked his knees better afterwards. 

"I'll come back in the morning. I'll come back, darling…"

They kissed some more, then Jaskier pushed Geralt out of the car. 

When Geralt woke up in the morning, he walked to the window - and saw Jaskier asleep in his car. He hadn't driven away, hadn't gone home. Geralt went down and woke him up with a kiss. 

"Stupid fish…"

Jaskier moaned and held Geralt close. 

"I read an American folk tale last night. There was a fisherman, and he caught a trout. The trout became his friend, learned to walk - and then it fell into the river and drowned."

Geralt climbed into the car. "Not letting you drown, never. You're my fish, I'll keep you safe."

They slept together in the backseat until ten in the morning.

\---

The day Geralt was discharged, Jaskier was waiting for him outside. He took Geralt back to his house and made him tea.

"Listen… I'm a terrible rich arsehole. I… I built you a house like mine, but far from me, and the farm is yours, so if Triss finds a way to make it profitable, all the profit is yours." Jaskier stirred his tea awkwardly. "You don't need to accept it. You don't have to… I'm just happy you're… you're out."

"Dance with me," Geralt asked quietly. 

"Oh, of course, darling. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Geralt pulled him into an embrace. "No one ever… no one… only you… I… I don't know how to be cared for. Please… don't… don't send me away."

"I never intended to, Geralt. Just… I thought you'd need some space. I'd give you anything. Geralt…"

Geralt rocked him softly to some music playing in his head, Afghan, Amy Winehouse, jazz, baroque… anything. 

"Should you… should you try to see Ciri?" Jaskier asked. 

"Don't think it's possible. As your sugar baby."

Jaskier pushed him away, just a little. "Don't speak like that. I expect nothing in return. If you don't… if you…" He sobbed into Geralt's shoulder. 

"I don't know how to tell her about you."

"You don't have to tell her about me."

"And what, keep the fact that you, bright, shiny, sunny you, chose me?" Geralt chuckled. "You're my only redeeming quality."

"You don't need any. You're you."

\---

"So… you're out," Yennefer said on the zoom. Jaskier tried to stay out of it, but Geralt pulled him close. 

"I am. This is Jaskier. He's my…"

"I'm his boyfriend," Jaskier managed. "Hi, Yennefer. Heard so much about you."

"Oh, did you? Hope it was indecent."

Before Geralt knew, Jaskier and Yennefer were chatting effortlessly. They talked makeup, their manicurists, babysitters and charity. Jaskier set Yennefer up on a date with Triss.

"Ciri needs to be with you, then."

"Perfect. I have a farm!"

"You're stupid!"

"I beg your pardon, I do have a farm!"

\---

His first night out Geralt slept next to Jaskier, whose hands kept reaching out to Geralt even in his sleep.

"How did… how did you convince her to let you see Ciri?"

"I don't know. She's scary. I just rolled with it," Jaskier admitted. 

"And… you're ok with it?" Geralt asked carefully. Jaskier was soft and sleepy in his arms, clinging to Geralt and trying to snuggle closer.

"Yes… Darling… I want you whole, and you have a daughter." Jaskier yawned. "Do you think she'd love Roach?"

\---

Ciri loved Roach. Ciri refused to do anything other than riding Roach, and Jaskier just shrugged and told her she could do however she pleased.

Then, as Ciri rode by, he climbed up into the saddle. 

"You told me you can't ride!" Geralt screamed.

"Oh, the things one would do for a thousand pounds a night! You sleep well, darling… And I learned to ride a horse. In the dark." Jaskier steered Roach masterfully, and the next thing Geralt knew, Roach was hopping all over the place, Jaskier and Ciri upon her back. Ciri was giggling and smiling so much, Geralt worried about her mouth.

They rode past Geralt. 

"Now, we're attacked with arrows, so… duck!" Both ducked. Roach huffed, sharing Geralt's exasperation, but they kept riding. 

"I've been wounded," Jaskier informed and handed the reins to Ciri. 

"Oh no, you've been wounded." Ciri pushed Roach to move faster, with Jaskier hanging down by her hip. 

"Go easy on her," he suggested. 

Ciri did.

In the evening, after a very good dinner, she fell asleep on Jaskier's sofa.

"Should I carry her up to the bed?" Jaskier asked. 

"No, she's fine. Too much fresh air and… horses."

"Should have given that farm to her. Well, let's go up and sleep, then."

Geralt held Jaskier close and tight. "You… scoundrel."

"I need to win over your daughter, darling. I intend to." Jaskier yawned into Geralt's shoulder.

"You have…"

"Good. Told you… never made an effort. How is my effort going?" And he was fast asleep.

"You're doing so well, Jask… my tender fish."

\---

Ciri was the first to wake up, so Jaskier drove her to the farm and they fed Roach together. They visited every other animal too, before returning to the tiny house, just in time for Geralt to wake up. 

"Glad you're abandoning your army routine," Jaskier whispered hotly. He kissed Geralt and swallowed a moan when Geralt kissed him back. "Sleep well, darling, I got this."

Jaskier made waffles for Ciri, they ate together, giggling at every snore Geralt made. 

When Geralt woke up, there was breakfast waiting for him, and Jaskier and Ciri were playing outside.

They went for a walk, all three of them. Jaskier told Ciri about each and every tree Ciri was interested in, and by the evening Ciri was exhausted. She hugged Geralt - she had been hugging him all weekend at every opportunity, then Jaskier drove her back to Yennefer. Ciri fell asleep of course. 

\---

"What a day!" Jaskier sighed, tossing aside his car keys.

Geralt scooped him into his arms and breathed in his smell. "You're perfect. You're so, so perfect. Please, don't ask me to leave you. I'll do anything, fish, just don't leave me."

"Darling…" Jaskier kissed Geralt's chin. "Oh darling…" His nose. "Please, don't leave me…" Lips. "Why didn't you come with me?"

"Can't… can't face Yen yet." Geralt hid his face in Jaskier's hair. 

\---

This time Jaskier was inside Geralt, covering him with his body, holding him gently and thrusting carefully. Geralt melted into it, into Jaskier's chest against his back, into sweet kisses Jaskier peppered over his shoulder blades, into the way Jaskier pressed his forehead to Geralt's neck.

"You're so much bigger, Geralt. I feel like I'm riding a whale."

"You're ridiculous, fish."

"I'll latch on you," Jaskier warned before slightly biting the back of Geralt's neck. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some controversial topics here. I'm sorry in advance. Please, be kind to me.

"You haven't been back this week," Geralt said. 

"Yes… I…" Jaskier rubbed his forehead. He and Geralt - mostly Geralt - had been cutting wood for a very fancy and fire-hazardous oven that looked like a big black drop atop one leg. Jaskier had bought it without much thought, because it looked, well, fancy. 

Geralt crowded Jaskier against the nearest tree and kissed him. "What's happening?"

"Didn't want to leave you alone. Thought you wouldn't want to go back there."

Geralt took a step back. Traces of paranoia leaked into his thoughts, but before he could snap out, Jaskier pressed his forehead to Geralt's. "I love you. I trust you. Just don't want to leave you alone… don't want you to be alone again. I know I can be too much…"

"Not bloody enough," Geralt growled, hugging the younger man. For a while they remained like that, holding each other. 

“How about you drive me there next week? And come back to pick me up. I could buy a black car. Respectable and all that." Jaskier looked at Geralt. 

"I'd love that. Don't buy me a car. Jask, I'm not rich, but I can make do."

"You don't have to, though. I can take care of you and shower you with gifts."

"Won't make me any cleaner." Geralt huffed into Jaskier's ear. "I think I can survive driving your silly cerulean car."

"Oh, the sacrifices you make for me, Geralt."

\---

"There'd better be a reason for you insisting on this call," Yennefer rubbed her eyes. "It's fucking four in the morning."

"Are you offended that it's not the end of December?" Jaskier batted his eyelashes, but his face and posture were tense and determined. 

"Ok, now I have Leonard fucking Cohen stuck in my head."

"You're welcome. Geralt is asleep…"

"Fucked him that well? Or does he fuck you? I'm afraid I didn't get the memo."

"I saw you being totally chill, Yennefer, so I assume you being a bitch has something to do with the hour."

"If you want something from me, you fucking creep, then you'd better be polite." Yennefer sneered. 

"Oh, and why am I a creep, tell me?" Jaskier lit a cigarette and moved farther from the house, so that Geralt wouldn't be able to tell. He would tell all the same, but the effort counted. 

"Where to begin? You live in the middle of a forest you own, you're that fucking journalist who tried to make a hero of my unstable ex, you're in a sick relationship with said ex. With an alcoholic veteran who can't speak his mind and doesn't acknowledge his feelings. Maybe you're manipulating him. He might be manipulating you, but he doesn't have enough braincells for this."

Jaskier took a deep breath. 

"Now, listen here, you bitch. I'm an investigative journalist with a reputation. I'm a millionaire with an army of lawyers, one of whom you're dating. I'm very good with handling the press, I have friends and ex-lovers everywhere. Unlike you, I always managed to stay on good terms with my exes. So here's a thing. I love Geralt. I want him happy. I want to be a part of his life, and he loves his daughter. The only reason I'm talking to you right now is that I respect you as Ciri's mother. If Geralt and I get married, will _you_ be alright with me in Ciri's life? Oh should I casually tell Geralt that she's not his? It wouldn't change a thing of course, but he'd be heartbroken."

"How… how did you know?"

"Investigative journalist." Jaskier shrugged. "With a lot of friends. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but you wanted to humiliate me and the man I love."

"So what, you're going to blackmail me?"

"No, I'm going to warn you. I won't let you hurt him. You know, for someone who's so desperate to be able to choose, you don't deal with your choices well."

"You stalked me!"

"I didn't. Triss doesn't know, so don't worry. I just asked a couple of questions. You're a celebrity, Yennefer. The best fertility specialist there is…"

"And infertile," Yennefer spat. 

Jaskier's face softened. "It's not your fault. I've been an arse. But you started it."

"So it _is_ my fault, isn't it? Couldn't give him a kid, couldn't help him when he turned into an alcoholic… I thought he was noble. Ideal. And he slipped through my fingers, and I couldn't help. I ruined my family and now I'm being blackmailed by _you_! A useless, privileged twink!"

"I can't be a twink, I have too much hair."

Yennefer giggled. "Triss is sweet, though. I might be head over heels."

"She is sweet. Bet you're good for each other."

"You really want to marry that wreck?"

"I really want to marry Geralt Rivia. I loved him at first sight. I want to be a good stepdad to Ciri. I can't do it without your approval. I'm doing it terribly, I know… I hate it when people reduce so-called addicts to their addiction."

"She's Geralt's. She's not mine, but she's Geralt's. Was a surrogate."

"And you're campaigning against surrogacy."

"Yes." Yennefer lit a cigarette of her own. "Don't tell Geralt," she warned. 

"I won't. Ciri's having a sleepover?"

"Yeah. That hippy friend of hers… Dara. You should adopt him, his parents are shit and he'd go crazy over a farm."

"I wish I could adopt everyone I wanted to adopt… Triss started the farm, by the way. Tricked me."

"You have shitty lawyers… I will tell him one day. When I'm ready. If I'm ready."

"I was an arse. It was wrong of me. I'm… I guess I can be feral."

"You do live in the middle of a forest. That you own."

"I can give you a half of it."

"You're literally trying to buy Geralt."

"I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest. Never have."

"Fuck, they do have shitty standards. So does Geralt, apparently."

They talked for a while longer, their animosity gone just as suddenly as it appeared. 

A week later J. A. Pankratz published his first article in years, a long op-ed about Yennefer Vengerberg being a feminist icon and an amazing doctor. 

\---

One early morning Geralt woke up because of the sounds he had come to associate with a big city - trucks, shouts, booms and bangs. He grunted when he realised that Jaskier wasn't spooning him. He had gone so soft for that blessed fish. Damned fish. 

Fish.

He walked out of their - their? - tiny house, and saw that their -their? - clearing now had three luxury trailers. 

Jaskier was chasing away the loud men and their trucks.

"What the fuck is going on, fish?" Geralt asked. It was chilly outside and he was wearing just his boxers and Jaskier's shirt that was far too tight for Geralt. 

"You look so… cold in my shirt, darling. And hot, of course." Jaskier rushed to Geralt and held him.

"What is it?" Geralt nuzzled Jaskier's hair. 

"Well, Eskel is coming for a visit. Our house is indeed tiny and Eskel might want some space… I thought. So one trailer is for him. One is for Ciri. One is for Triss and Yennefer. Or just… you know. In case we have guests."

"So… it's official. We are official."

"Darling, we're not official. Not yet." Jaskier dropped on one knee. "Geralt Rivia, you incredible love of my life, I talked to your ex-wife and got her approval to be Ciri's stepdad, and I built you this ring of trailers, because I doubt you'll wear jewelry… You're still wearing your old wedding ring, though… Anyway, I'm not asking you to replace it or wear mine, although I had one somewhere in my pockets. You deserve a better, bigger ring. Here's one," Jaskier waved his arms around. "Geralt, will you please marry me?"

"You're triggering my paranoia," Geralt replied and walked back into the house.

None of those smart designers of tiny houses had ever thought of a need for solitude. 

So Geralt locked himself in the bathroom. He heard Jaskier approaching the door, sighing, banging his head on the wall - those smart designers made the worst walls. Then the fish drove off. Geralt checked the calendar - it was his day at the rehab, and hopefully Jaskier would be alright.

Geralt called Yennefer. 

"What, he proposed to you?" Yennefer seemed exasperated.

"He did. I locked myself in the bathroom."

"Fuck off, Geralt."

Geralt called Eskel.

"Jaskier. He proposed to me. He bought you, Ciri and Yennefer a trailer. A tiny house, for each one of you. He has a thing for tiny houses."

"Did you lock yourself in the bathroom?"

"I did. What else was I supposed to do? He bought each one of you a home. Built a ring out of them. Proposed. I'm wearing his shirt. It's too tight."

"Geralt, he's in love with you. I saw him looking at you when you guys called. What's worse, I saw you looking at him."

"Eskel, he's brighter than the sun. So warm… and sometimes so… feral. He sneaked out at night a few days ago. Tried to intimidate Yennefer."

"Well, he's stupid, Geralt, please, marry him. Glad you're being more attentive after all that riding incident."

"I'm always afraid that he'll get in trouble."

"Marry him and stop it."

"You think I should?"

"I think you should be happy, Geralt. Enough of noble causes and self-sacrificing."

\---

Geralt made dinner and waited for Jaskier like a faithful spouse. 

"Hey," Jaskier was standing in the doorway. 

"Hey, fish."

"Thought… thought you'd leave."

"I heard you trying to intimidate Yennefer."

"Fuck… Geralt… I'm so sorry."

"You should be. You're as much of a mess as I am."

"I…"

"Not talking about her without her in the room, fish. She deserves the right to grind us both into dust."

Jaskier chuckled bitterly. "I thought I could do something right… for once."

"You've been really toxic, fish. I'm not mad, though. No one tried being toxic for me. And I can't leave you alone like that, buying silly things and tiny houses. Let's get married."

\---

The wedding was quiet. Geralt wanted it so. Geralt didn't even want a wedding but Jaskier and Ciri got excited about the flowers and cakes, and Eskel joined them. Inevitably, Jaskier was dancing his first dance with Ciri, while Triss danced with Eskel. Theirs was a beautiful friendship in the making. 

Geralt sat next to Yennefer who was smoking on the porch of her trailer. 

"We're all so… flawed." Yennefer winced.

"Something we had to discover almost too late." Geralt grabbed her cigarette and took a drag. 

"He's dangerous. I love it about him." She lit another cigarette, just for herself. 

"I'm sorry, Yen. It was stupid. Not talking."

"Sex was great, though."

"It was… in a way."

"Yeah… you know, don't you?"

"I do. I swear I learned about it through counterintelligence, since they checked everything and everyone. Lashed out at them."

"Thank you. Hope they are dead now."

"I think Jaskier could arrange for that."

"He's chaotic enough." 

Both chuckled. 

"Hello, beautiful people!" Jaskier was more than a bit tipsy. "What can I do for you?" He smiled so brightly, that Geralt felt old… Well, it was his husband's smile now, the one to keep him going till his dying day or some other shit. Still, that smile was Geralt's to kiss and to put on that lovely face.

"Well, if you're asking, how about you go after those people in the counterintelligence who told Geralt I used a surrogate?" Yennefer grinned like a predator. 

Jaskier gasped. 

Later that night, when they were left alone in their tiny house, when Geralt was trying to kiss it into Jaskier that there could be nothing he wouldn't fight to be next to his stubborn, ice-breaking fish, said fish said:

"I'll destroy them, Geralt. They abused Ciri's mom. I'm so destroying them."

"Jask, please, shut up, it's our wedding night!"

"Oh, right. My bad…"

\---

J. A. Pankratz had to be going through some big changes in his life, because just a few months after that op-ed about Dr Vengerberg, he published an investigation into the counterintelligence policies, which carefully exposed the range of abuse that made many a voter pause in their steps and consider their choices. 

Jaskier was the paranoid one now, though. "When I wrote about you, I was just a kid. Now I have you. And Ciri. Oh dear, what have I done?" Jaskier stared at the stew Geralt had asked him to stare at. 

"Honey, fish, it's ok. No one will touch you here. There are literal wolves. And you feed them marble steaks."

"Well… there are at least some mammals I can rely on."

\---

They did try to come for Jaskier. They just didn't expect to find a war hero by his side. 

And a teenage girl on a grumpy mare.

And a fertility specialist.

And a pack of wolves munching on marble steaks.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment to your writer. Please. They keep me going.


End file.
